The Other Kind of Ashes
by drowsyfantasy
Summary: Sequel to We'll Talk Again.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain._

* * *

**The Other Kind of Ashes**

Jackson Rippner, ex-assassin extraordinaire, could be frighteningly domestic when it came to haunting, Lisa Reisart thought to herself as she looked up from her newspaper to see the form of her ex-tormentor propped up on one of the living-room chairs.

He'd developed a perpetual scowl that only seemed to heighten the blue in his eyes and the almost unnatural size of his lips. More than once she'd had to resist telling him that if he stuck out his bottom lip any further, a bird might come and land on it. Was it her grandmother that had told her that, originally?

She let her eyes fall back to the caption of the photograph: _G8 Summit to take place next week…_

A sudden yelp brought her out of the newspaper; she looked up to see Jackson sprawled on the floor.

"Uh…Jack?"

He let out a long chain of swear words, followed by "…reclining handle!"

She raised her eyebrows and peered at the chair. Apparently he'd pulled the lever for the reclining function of his chair in the wrong direction, and it had flung him halfway across the room.

"You're lucky you didn't hit a wall." she said dryly, putting her paper down with a sigh and kneeling down beside him. "Mind you, would you have actually hit it, or would you've gone right through it?"

He gave her a very dangerous look. "If you're trying to be funny, it's not working."

She shook her head. "Believe you me, if I was trying to be funny, I wouldn't be making fun of you. Besides which; why are you still here? Shouldn't you have moved on by now?"

"You've seen too many movies." Jackson groaned, getting to his feet. "Being dead is just like being alive, but only a few people can see you."

"Well, why are you haunting me?"

He didn't answer her for a few moments.

"Other than the fact that you're the only one who can see me…" he paused. "At least, if I stay here, I can actually pretend I'm still alive. Interact."

She chuckled. "Yeah…I suppose. But no amount of sweet-talking is ever going to change your sleeping arrangements. Couch. I'm going to bed." she stood up, stretched slightly, and walked off.

Rolling his eyes, Jackson climbed onto the couch with a grunt. "What, don't I get a good-night kiss?"

The only response was a light chuckle.

* * *

The cliché of how dark it was when all the lights were turned off was completely lost on Jackson until he was awakened by a small flashlight in his face.

With a roar of pain he covered his eyes and curled up; however when this derived no other response but the light moving on, he uncovered his face and peered after the tiny, bobbing light in the gloom. As his eyes stopped throbbing and re-adjusted to the darkness of the room, he focused on the man holding the light.

Quirking an eyebrow and walking around beside the stranger, Jackson began firing questions at him. No response.

However it was only when the man pulled out a knife and began to walk up the stairs that Jackson realized this wasn't a burglar; it was a murderer.

"Shit. Lisa!" he called out, pushing past the man on the stairs. "Lisa, wake up!"

With a sudden shock, he realized that he'd actually had to push the man out of the way. As he blinked and stared at his hands in the blackness, Lisa appeared at the top of the stairs, housecoat over her pajamas.

Lisa started back with a cry; but as the man lunged forward Jackson pushed him backwards. He fell down the rest of the stairs on his back, head-first, landing in a heap at the very bottom. His neck was at a very odd angle to his body, and the knife lay on the floor beside his hand.

"Shit." he said again, standing in the middle-landing of the stairs, shaking slightly with confusion and nerves.

Lisa rushed down to stand beside him, almost afraid to touch him. "What's going on?"

"There's someone after your life. And it's not someone I recognize." Jackson led her down the stairs and began to go through the man's pockets. "Nothing! No ID, no papers, no nothing."

Lisa hugged her housecoat closer. "Was he alone?"

Jackson let out a very long breath. "I don't know. We could search the house, but if you'll remember when I was on the other side of that knife…"

She nodded quickly, unable to stop a shuddering yawn. "So…should we just go?"

"No. Does your bedroom door lock?"

"Yes…"

"C'mon then." he said, gently pushing her back up the stairs. "Go back to bed. We'll sweep the room, and then you can lock yourself in. I'll stay outside the door, just remember not to trip over me in the morning."  
"Oh, no, don't – don't do that." she said, tugging his hand as they checked the room and determined it was murderer-free. "Just sit, okay?" she got back down into her bed, making him sit beside her on top of the blankets. "Just sit."

He gave her a weird look, and then chalked it up to her being half-awake. "You don't need company while you're sleeping, Leese…"

But it didn't matter because she had already fallen back asleep.

Jackson sighed and leaned back against the mountain of pillows. This was awkward, but at the same time, it felt comfortable – and not just because of the pillows and blankets. But he couldn't fall asleep.

He looked at the readout on the digital clock. 2:38 am.

Morning was a long way away…

* * *

To Be Continued...

* * *

_Note: Sorry it took so long for this to be posted, but yes – it is a sequel, and yes, the rest of it will be rated M for mature. This may include, but is not limited to, **sex**, **extreme violence**, **gore**, and **enough plot twists to blow your brains out**. You have now been warned. _


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain._

* * *

Dawn finally came, and it was with bleary eyes that Jackson watched the sun come up. Though in his insubstantial state he didn't seem to require sleep, his eyes still hurt as the light filtered through the curtains and into the room.

Lisa didn't seem to notice, however, and continued to doze. He ventured a glance down to his right, where she lay.

She looked so young, almost like a teenager or a child. It half-frightened him, and he looked away quickly, getting up to stand by the window and draw back the curtains.

The sky was clear by this time, and the sunlight flooded the room and nearly made him pull back. Wincing slightly, he blinked and went around the house, trying to find other evidence of strangers in the house. Eventually he returned to the body which still lay at the foot of the stairs, neck bent so far back the skin had ripped slightly. He had bled apparently, but in the dark of last night they hadn't noticed this.

Dragging the corpse out into the front hallway so it wouldn't be the first thing Lisa saw when she came downstairs, Jackson wondered again why he'd been able to touch the man, and push him down the stairs. The laws governing his state of being seemed to be in flux. He could walk on the ground, but he could also walk through walls. He could be flung across the room by a reclining chair, but he couldn't defuse a bomb. He could be captured on film, but not in mirrors, or reflective surfaces, and he couldn't be seen or heard by anyone but Lisa…

He shook his head. The boundary lines of being a ghost – or whatever he was – didn't seem very well drawn.

Then he noticed something sticking out of the man's pocket. Funny. Had he noticed that last night? But it was newsprint. He probably wouldn't have thought anything of it in the dark…

He lifted it to his eyes.

_G8 Summit to take place next week._

* * *

Lisa woke to a warm, hollow dip in her bed.

"Jack?" she said aloud, feeling a space where he used to be. For a moment, she was confused; concerned that he was gone for good. Then he appeared in the doorway.

"Good morning." he said, shrugging slightly and sitting back down on the bed. "Found this in his pocket this morning." he didn't need to clarify the _him_. "Thought you might want to take a look. Ring any bells for you?"

"This was in last night's newspaper that I was reading." she tilted her head, focusing on the print, holding it up to the light. Then she stopped dead.

"Lisa?"

"There's something written here, on the back." she said, turning it around and holding it up to the light again. "I could only see it when the light was shining through it…"

"Well, what does it say?" Jackson demanded, feeling anxious.

"Gimme a minute. I'm still half-asleep." she groused, peering at the scribbled scrawl. As she read, her expression changed from sleepy confusion to wide-awake alarm.

"What does it _say_?" Jackson hissed.

"It says…I think it says…_2331 completed. Proceed with code 6420_." she said quietly. Looking up, she frowned slightly. "Does that…make any sense to you?"

"No." he shook his head. "But I'm assuming you weren't meant to read it. Not if they were willing to kill you to get it."

"But I always…wait a minute."

"Huh?"

"I was going to say, we get the newspaper delivered. But I bought this one on the stand because I wanted to read it on the bus." she got out of bed and Jackson followed her down the stairs. "I must've bought…a marked newspaper."

Picking up the paper, she examined the front page in better detail. "Look at the fringe on the right-hand side."

"What about it?"

"Jack…it's smooth." she ran her finger along the side. "What kind of newsprint is cut fine like this?"

"Point taken. So you bought the newspaper that they were supposed to get. Whoever 'they' are."

"But the newsstand didn't even protest, so they didn't know. And it was at the top of the rack." she frowned, shaking her head. "Wouldn't they want it to stay hidden? And how were they able to track me down if I bought it by accident?"

"Are you suggesting this was done on purpose?" Jackson gave her a bizarre look as she headed into the kitchen, paper still in hand as she loaded the coffeemaker.

"I can't think of any other reason…" she said, sighing and putting it down, heading towards the front door.

"Ahh…I stashed the body there. We should probably do something with it." Jackson said, walking by her side as she looked into the hall.

"Ugh." she wrinkled her nose, carefully moving around it to pick up the paper from the stoop, coming inside and sitting down at the table. "Should we call the police?"

"They'll want to know why we didn't call last night." he pointed out.

"Shit." she made a face. "Well? How do we get rid of it?"

He gave her a dubious look. "I don't know if you know a lot about dead bodies, but unless you take care of it quickly, it's going to rot. And then it's going to smell."

She shivered slightly. "I never touched it. It shouldn't have my prints on it. You can put it in a plastic bag and we'll…I don't know. Bury it."

He nearly choked on a snicker. "Lisa Reisart buries a body. How…dark."

"Oh, shut up." she gave him a half-hearted shove as she turned her attention to the paper.

When she saw the front page she spurted her coffee and jerked like a live wire. "Shit!"

"What _now_?" Jackson demanded.

"Look at this!" she held the paper up so he could see it. "Keefe has been killed!" she was nearly in tears.

Jackson gave her a dry look. "Oh, and I'll bet the assassin didn't get a pen stabbed in his – "

She was up on her feet and had him against the wall; her chest heaving, cheeks stained with tears, eyes blazing with fury. "Shut _up_, Jack! He was a _good _man! I can't believe you're so – "

"So _what_? _Insensitive_? Lisa, last time his life was on the line you saved him by getting me killed. Don't think I'm going to forget that any time soon." his eyes were cold and narrowed slightly. Clearly not frightened nor impressed with her fury.

She let him go and went back to the table, sitting down shakily and breezed through the rest of the article, biting her lip and trying not to break down completely.

Jackson took a large garbage bag from under the sink and went to wrap up the body.

* * *

To be continued… 


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain._

* * *

"I loaded it into the back of your car. It's still in the garage; we can take it out and dump it after dark." Jackson said, coming back into the kitchen and washing his hands. It felt…weird, but it was good to get clean again.

"I can hardly wait." Lisa said, tersely. Her eyes were still slightly red from crying, but at least now after she'd taken a shower and gotten dressed, she felt a bit better. Still awful over Keefe, but there was nothing she could've done about it – or as Jackson had said, it had been 'out of her hands'. She almost laughed at the bitter irony of the entire situation as she leaned against the sink.

"So. What to do until we can bury it?" she said, looking at Jackson

"Try and figure out where we're going to bury it." he shrugged, drying his hands on a dish towel and making his way to the living room.

"Wise ass." she sighed slightly, following him and sitting down on the couch. She folded her legs up under herself, feeling very young and very vulnerable again. Dammit, she hated this feeling. Of not being in control. Both she and Jackson were very much alike in that way, Lisa thought. Both needing to be in control. It was like a drug. They craved it.

"…earth to Lisa?" Jackson waved a hand in front of her face. "I said, d'you think it would be better to bring it to a dump where they burn things, or just dump it in a landfill?"

"Oh! Ah…well. I've never buried a body before. I was thinking you'd be able to give me some tips."

"What?" he made a face. "Me? Bury a body? How base. How utterly _below_ my position."

"Shut up, Jack." Lisa ran her hands through her hair. "So. To burn or not to burn…"

"Either way, the bones will take a long time to disintegrate. Trust me; I know how much it takes to cremate a body." he said, quietly.

She was about to say something snarky, then paused. He was right, and it was a very low blow.

"Yeah. I know." she said, looking away slightly. "But I still think burning's probably better. At least most of the parts will be gone quickly."

Jackson fiddled slightly with the ends of his sleeves. He felt very uncomfortable. Then again, it could've been half-caused by the fact that he was still wearing the same suit he'd been killed in, minus the bloodstains, of course. It seemed to repair itself every so often.

"Lisa, d'you…have anything else I could wear?" he asked suddenly, looking up at her.

She blinked. "Ah…I think my dad's wardrobe is still full. You can…uh…I think they'd be too big for you, but you can take a look." she shrugged, getting up and walking up the stairs.

He followed her this time, up onto the second floor and into her father's room.

Perusing the closet, she held out a sweater and a pair of faded gray-blue jeans. "These are a little big, but they're the only ones that look like they would fit. Let me find you a belt…" she began digging through his drawers.

He held up the sweater. "It's purple."

"No it's not, it's 'Winter Plum'." Lisa said, not looking up from her quest. "Aha! Got one!" she held it up triumphantly, like a trophy.

Jackson was still staring at the sweater like it was about to bite him. "It's fucking _purple_, Leese."

"Hey, you wanted the change of clothes. Put it on or put it back." she shrugged, handing him the belt and turning to leave. "You have five minutes, and then come back out. We still have to work out details." She closed the door behind her.

Glaring at the sweater, he removed his suit and folded it up, laying it on the bed.

The jeans really were a bit big, but the belt helped. Jackson paused when he turned and saw he wasn't reflected in the mirror.

"Damn. Can't even tell if I need to shave…" he murmured, running his hand over his chin. He couldn't _feel_ any stubble, but that didn't really mean anything.

He was about to give in and put the sweater on when he turned and noticed that his suit was rapidly vanishing into thin air.

He let out a yell of confusion and fear, stumbling back and hitting a chest of drawers with his elbow. "Ahh! Shit!"

Lisa opened the door and hurried inside. "Jack? What's wrong?"

"My suit! It just…just…" he pointed at the bed, sweater half-on, half-off; Lisa gawked for a moment before turning to the bed.

"Oh. Uh…" she felt around on the covers. "It's gone, then…"

"My suit…my fucking five-hundred-dollar suit…" he gasped, feeling as if he was going to faint.

She began to laugh, in spite of herself. It was a sort-of giddy, insane laughter; she was exhausted and upset and it all just bubbled up into her laughs, which were quickly becoming full-out hysterical screams of laughter.

"Lisa, stop that!" Jackson said, taking her by the shoulders and shaking her. "Get a grip! Get a fucking grip!"

She jerked out of her bout of temporary insanity, wide-eyed and shaking slightly.

"Jack…fuck." she whispered. His hands tightened their grip slightly on her shoulders.

"You okay?" he asked, leaning forward slightly. There was something in her eyes he didn't like.

"I'm…I'm fine." she murmured, swallowing slightly and feeling a little like she was being x-rayed by his gaze. It was unnerving, those bright blue eyes so close to hers, so close she could almost –

And then he was kissing her. Kissing her long and hard; surprise and a sudden jolt of lust making her knees weak. His arms around her shoulders, pressing up into her back; her own arms snaking up around his neck and dragging him down.

Her knees gave out and they fell back on the bed. Clothes were nearly ripped off; the small part of Jackson's mind that was still functioning on the level was glad to be out of that nasty purple sweater.

This wasn't something any rational part of Lisa's mind could pin down, either. Not that there was much of it functioning. This was _primal, _this was _animal, _this was _hunger._ It wasn't something they could control, and that was why she was letting him take her, letting him fill her up and pound her into the mattress, both of them making wild noises every time they needed air.

And when it was over, when they both lay panting on the bed, twisted together in ways Lisa didn't even know her body could ever be, they were silent.

Jackson moved a hand up to touch Lisa's cheek, cup it; he lurched once and then rolled them over. They were still tangled, but now at least the pressure was off of Lisa's back and hips.

She didn't say anything. Didn't know what to say.

He closed his eyes, kissed her one more time, then pulled the blankets up over them, and together they sunk into the inky blackness of a dreamless sleep.

* * *

_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain._

* * *

The next time Lisa opened her eyes, she was alone. The light was fading from the sky, it was evening.

Time to get rid of that body…

Jackson poked his head into the room. "Ah. Leese. You're up."

"You shouldn't have let me sleep this long…"

"Now; get up and dressed, we have work to do."

"I know." she said quietly.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing."

He left the room again.

Lisa stood and stretched slightly, putting on dark jeans and an old, faded gray sweatshirt that had once had a logo on it but had long since been worn away. She took down a small shoulder bag, putting a flashlight and a pocketknife in it. Grabbing her keys, she went downstairs to the kitchen.

Jackson was eating some of the baby carrots she'd had in the fridge. "Hey, those are mine!"

"Not anymore." he said, pointing the half-bitten one in his hand at her, then at the fridge. "You should have something to eat, too. Don't know how much energy you'll need."

She sighed; but he had a point. "And you couldn't be bothered to have made anything for me?"

"What am I, your cook?"

"A sandwich would've been fine." she said, getting out some bread and sliced sandwich meat. "Not too hard."

"Didn't know what kind you wanted." he shrugged, eating another carrot.

"You are so goddamn frustrating." she snarled, slapping the sandwich together with a bit of mayonnaise and sitting at the table to eat it.

He got down from the counter and sat opposite her at the table. "You might want to work on your afterglow."

"My _what_?" she said, flushing slightly in indignation.

"Listen to us, Leese; we're bickering like an old married couple. Let's not do that." he said in a quiet, clipped tone.

She shut her mouth and looked away. "All right."

Lisa ate a bit more of her sandwich, then got out a water bottle and took a sip before closing it again.

"So…d'you know where, exactly, we can dump him?"

"I spent the afternoon looking through maps. We'll have to take a few hours' road trip to get to the nearest inconspicuous trash dump where they burn things." he said, unfolding a map and pointing to a few circles and lines he'd drawn.

"That's pretty far…" she finished her sandwich.

"We can get there and back by morning if you don't stop driving except to get gas." he said, standing up.

"Okay." she took a deep breath, and then stood up. "Let's get going."

They packed the car with a few snacks and other supplies, covered the body-bag with other bags of garbage, and left in less than half an hour.

It was just dusk by the time she hit the highway north, and there wasn't a lot of traffic, considering it was a Tuesday night. For a while, they drove in silence. The only sound Lisa could hear, besides the traffic, was her own breathing. Did Jackson really have to breathe any more? She couldn't really hear him, but then again he wasn't making a big deal out of it.

Jackson was leaning on his elbow and staring out the side window. "There's an interesting shade of blue over there…" he said, gesturing vaguely with a fingertip.

"Really?" she asked quietly, glancing quickly over to the window.

He was right. A very nice shade of blue, just over the horizon.

She turned back to the highway. It was nearly devoid of cars; she passed a few people and then was completely alone.

Except for Jackson, of course.

And her other passenger.

"Jackson…d'you have to breathe any more?" she finally blurted out.

"I – what?" he was slightly taken aback. Then he paused. "Uh…no. I only need to breathe when I want to talk." he shrugged. "Other than that, it's just a habit."

_So that heavy breathing during sex was just habit._

She gave herself a mental kick. That was a bad thought to reminisce about.

"You forgot I can hear you." Jackson said quietly. "But it's not what you'd call habit. More like reflex. D'you think I have sex a lot, in my profession?"

"James Bond?"

"More like Oddjob." he snickered slightly. "Except without the hat."

She laughed a little at that. "What would you do with a killer hat?"

"Not get myself electrocuted, hopefully."

Lisa laughed outright. "You died and gained a sense of humor!"

"I always had one; you just never got to see it."

That gave her pause. "Jack…if Keefe hadn't been a target…and we met…what would it have been like?"

He gave her an odd look. "I never thought about that. I didn't have a lot of time to fanaticize outside of missions.

"So you never thought about getting married? Having a wife? Kids?"

"Good Lord, Lisa, are you suggesting – "

"God, no!" she shook her head vehemently, jerking the vehicle slightly. "You tried to kill one of my good friends, you tried to kill my father, and you tried to kill me!"

"Calm down." he shook his head. "I wouldn't want to, anyway. You're far too emotional and way too high-strung."

"Emotional and high-strung? Sorry, Jack, but anyone lacking a 'Y' chromosome has those tendencies." she rolled her eyes.

"I doubt very much that I'd marry a man."

"Is that legal here?"

"In some states. I think." he tilted his head slightly.

She shook her head, chuckling darkly. "Jackson Rippner, assassin extraordinaire, a flaming – "

"Look out!" he yelped, leaning over suddenly.

She screamed and swerved hard to avoid hitting a squat, fat little animal that had wandered onto the highway.

"Skunk." he looked into the rearview mirror once they'd past it. "That would've really stuck…"

"Well at least our third passenger back there doesn't smell yet."

"He will by morning." Jackson said darkly. "Wait. There's the exit we need to take." he pointed to the sign, then the map.

"Right." Lisa nodded, turning off and slowly driving down the long road into the darkness.

* * *

_To be continued…_


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain._  
Italics are Lisa's thoughts to Jackson.

* * *

The pavement eventually turned into a dirt road, and Lisa gave Jackson a rather skeptical look. 

"If you've gotten us lost on purpose…"

"D'you think I want to walk back on foot? Just keep driving." he said, face buried in his map.

She sighed and kept going, turning on her brights.

"Are you insane? Turn those off!" Jackson hissed, making wild gestures with his hands. "You want to get us spotted?"

She turned them off. "Jackson, are we going somewhere we're not supposed to?"

"We're _dumping_ a _body_!" he nearly squeaked.

"Point taken." she kept driving, wishing her eyes would adjust to the dark quicker.

Eventually they reached a chain-link fence, and beyond it Lisa could see a small shack, and beyond that, a pile with flames.

"It's a pit." Jackson said. "Stop the car. We'll get out here."

She nodded, leaving it idling so they could get out of there quickly if they needed to, and they went round to the back and removed the body and the other bags.

"Ugh. This is just creepy." she shivered slightly, rubbing her arms before hoisting the other bags out. "You take the _corpse_."

"The dead are left to carry the dead." Jackson rolled his eyes. "The irony would kill me – "

" – If you weren't already dead." Lisa chuckled dryly, walking round the fence to get inside.

The shack was empty but they still were careful. Silently they walked up to the burning pit. Jackson dumped the body-bag in first, and then Lisa tossed the normal garbage bags on top. They watched the plastic melt as oily smoke rose into the air.

"Smells really bad…"

"That would be the carbon." Jackson said dryly. "Mmm. My favorite."

"What?"

"Charred flesh. The blackness? It's carbon."

She gave him a blank look.

"Oh, just because I stayed awake during chemistry class in – "

She was walking back to the car.

"Hey, wait up!"

* * *

They were back on the highway with no interference.

"That…was…interesting." Lisa said when she figured she could breathe again. "I just dumped a body…"

"You can do anything now." Jackson shrugged, looking out the window. "God, it's black out there…"

"I can't drive all the way back home like this. I'm tired and in a few hours I'll be totally asleep…"

Jackson unfolded the map. "Motel a few miles off the main road…take the next exit."

She nodded, and when the exit came up, took it. "It has a sign…"

"Ooh, vacancy. Good." he said, as they pulled up to the small motel and got out. The office was still open, a single fat old man sitting behind the desk.

"Yah want a room?" he asked, tapping his pen on the binder.

"Oh, ah, yes. Yes, please." Lisa said, remembering her manners at the last minute.

"Lisa, he's staring at your breasts."

_Lots of men do that. If you're going to stick around, you might as well get used to the fact that most people with a Y chromosome talk to my chest._

He sighed and leaned against the desk.

"How long?"

"Just overnight."

"Just you?"  
"Yes." she said, fighting the urge to look at Jackson.

"Fifty." he said, holding out a fat palm.

She dug in her purse and pulled out two twenties and a ten, handed it to him.

He reached around, gave her a key, and then she and Jackson went back outside.

Lisa shivered slightly in the cool night air. "Room number ten?"

"It's at the end of the row. Over here." he said, pointing to the door.

It wasn't very nice, but it was a place to stay. TV, dresser, table, bathroom…

"One bed."

"It's a single."

They exchanged looks.

"You should've asked for two."

"But then he would've thought I was crazy or something."

Jackson sighed, stretching slightly and leaning against the dresser. "Well, I'm _not_ sleeping in the car."

"But I'm the one that's driving." Lisa pointed out. "I need a good sleep."

"Well then get in." he rolled his eyes, pushing her slightly.

She had him by his wrists and pinned before he realized it.

"Don't do that." she said, eyes narrowed.

"Uh…right." Jackson raised his eyebrows as she let go and went to the bathroom.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and took his shoes off. "Lisa?"

"What?" she came out of the bathroom, taking her own shoes off and crawling under the covers.

"Nothing." he shrugged, sighing.

There was a long moment of awkward silence.

"…Oh, fine. But you're staying on _top _of the covers."

"Thank you for your boundless hospitality."

"Shut up, Jack, or you'll be spending the night outside."

He was quiet, laying down just on top of the covers, her below.

Lisa found it difficult to try and fall asleep. She was on her side, Jackson at her back, and both were in danger of falling off.

"This isn't going to work." she eventually sighed, rolling over and looking at him in the dark.

He shrugged. "Then what?"  
"Oh, just get in." she held up the covers and he got in behind her, spooning her and lifting the covers up. He rested an arm lightly on top of her hip over the covers.

For a dead person, he was surprisingly warm. Gone was the ice-cold feeling of his skin from when she'd first met him on the plane after he died. Then again, he was wearing warmer clothes. Both of them were still fully dressed, but Lisa found the situation oddly intimate. It was…almost scarily…comfortable. Not something she wanted every night of her life, but…just…comfortable. She could deal with this, here and now.

For the moment, she almost considered telling him this, and then he put his arm over her side, pulling her a little closer.

She blinked, and then smiled to herself slightly, resting her hand over his, and drifting off to sleep.

* * *

To be continued… 


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain._

_

* * *

_Lisa was up before Jackson; she washed her face and then came back out again. 

He was still sleeping like a log, and she sighed, rolled her eyes, then pulled the blankets so that he rolled off and hit the floor.

"Ahhhhh!"

"Baby." she snorted, putting the blanket back and getting her shoes on.

"Not a very nice wake-up call…"

"What, would you have preferred a morning kiss?" she stood by the door, car keys in hand while he struggled to his feet and back into his shoes.

"Would've been softer than the goddamned floor…" he rubbed his lower back, wincing slightly.

She half-kicked him outside and back into the car. "Quit whining."

Lisa checked the time in the car, while they were driving back. "Not bad timing. Not quite nine a.m."

Jackson yawned. "Can I go back to sleep now, Leese?"

"No." she glared at him. "If _I'm_ going to be miserable, _you're_ going to be miserable!"  
"Wonderful." he buried his forehead in one hand, letting out a long sigh. "Maybe I should go haunt someone else."

"Well, maybe you should!" she gave him a nasty look before sighing and turning back to the road again. "Huhhh. The road's practically bare. That's weird…"

"It's a stretch of highway. It's going to be bare on a weekday morning."

"Rush hour commute?"

"Highway, Leese."

She pointed to the sign. "We're only half an hour away from Miami. There should be more people."

He rolled his eyes. "Turn on the radio. Maybe there's bad weather ahead?"

She fiddled with the dial. "Uh…Jack…it's already on."

He raised an eyebrow, and then played with the volume. "No sound."

"Either the speakers are dead, or…"

"Drive faster."

Jackson was nervous. He wouldn't allow himself the privilege of fear. Nervousness would do.

Lisa, on the other hand, was gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles were white. "What's going on?"

He toyed with her cell phone. "No signal."

"Shit." she grit her teeth, eyes narrowed as they drove back through the city, bustling with people as if everything were completely normal.

Once back at home, she checked her phone again. The signal was back, and her TV and radio worked as well.

"That's odd."

"Maybe a tower got knocked out?" he suggested.

"With what? A _bomb_?" she sifted through the morning paper. "Oh, look. Electrical storm. That's all."

"Wouldn't we have noticed that?"

"We were otherwise occupied." she sighed, getting herself some coffee. "You can sit down and watch the news. I'm going back to bed."

At that precise moment, the phone ran.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Lisa, this is Cynthia. We've got some problems…guests demanding to see you in person…it's really not good, can you come over?"

Lisa sighed, her shoulders sagging. "Give me a few minutes, then I'll be there." she hung up, turning to Jackson. "Cancel my nap; we've got places to go."

He gave her a self-satisfied little smirk. "If _I'm_ going to be miserable, _you're _– "

She gave him a frosty look and went to get changed.

By the time they arrived at the hotel, Jackson was yawning almost non-stop.

"Oh, don't do that." Lisa gritted sideways. "You start, and then I won't be able to control myself!"

"Gonna – gonna – " he yawned. "Gonna force yourself on me?"

She growled slightly in the back of her throat and gripped the steering wheel to prevent herself from giving him a good punch in the face. Split those pretty lips of his.

Shaking her head to clear _that_ image, she pulled into her parking space and got out, walking into the lobby with an air of cool calmness that she did not feel.

"Hi, Lisa, I'm sorry I had to call you, but…"

While Lisa and Cynthia talked to the irate guests, Jackson leaned against the counter and looked around. So this was enemy territory. Marble and obsidian. He glanced up towards the ceiling and spotted a video camera. Holding perfectly still, he recalled the incident on the airplane and decided to slowly look down and away from it.

"Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit." he growled under his breath.

Cynthia blinked and Lisa caught her friend's eyes as they ticked towards Jackson.

As the guest couple filled out another form, Cynthia nudged Lisa's arm slightly. "Is he another guest?"

Both Lisa and Jackson heard this, and stared at her.

"You…can see him." Lisa whispered, half-nervous, half terribly excited.

"Um…yes?" Cynthia gave her an odd look.

Just then, the couple finished with the form, Lisa pressed a pair of keys into their hand, and sent them off.

She tugged Cynthia towards the back door, jerking her head for Jackson to accompany them out.

Once they were all outside, Cynthia crossed her arms. "Lisa, what's wrong? Why are you acting so – "

"I killed him." Lisa looked at Jackson, who nodded in confirmation.

"You what?" Cynthia blinked, looking between the pair of them. "Lisa, this is a really nasty joke – "

"It's not a joke. This is…this is the man who tried to blackmail me on the plane, that time."

"And…" Cynthia was going pale. "And…the one you shot. So…so what happened…?"

"Long story." Jackson interrupted. "Basically, I'm dead. Apparently only you and Lisa can see me and hear me. But I'm also showing up on film…" his glance was caught by the rearview mirror in the nearest parked car. "…and also now in mirrors…" he frowned, bending over to take a better look at himself.

Lisa and Cynthia had matching expressions of sheer disbelief, and as they looked, they saw the same thing Jackson did: his reflection.

"This is not good." Jackson muttered. "I'm going back inside. See if I reflect in any other surfaces…" he hurried back into the building.

Lisa and Cynthia remained outside.

"I know this might be a bit hard to take, but…apparently he's some sort of ghost. Well, at least he's dead."

"He's not trying to kill you in revenge, is he?" Cynthia bit her lip, feeling slightly faint.

"Not so far." Lisa murmured, glancing towards the door.

Neither of them saw the approaching men in dark gray suits until it was too late.

* * *

To be continued… 


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain._

_

* * *

_Jackson walked by the mirrors in the front lobby, seeing at first only vague, hazy shadows of himself, but as the minutes passed, they became fully clear reflections. Whether or not people could actually see him was another question, because no one seemed to care about a reflection without a cause. Jackson walked by the mirrors in the front lobby, seeing at first only vague, hazy shadows of himself, but as the minutes passed, they became fully clear reflections. Whether or not people could actually him was another question, because no one seemed to care about a reflection without a cause. 

He bumped into someone and they said 'excuse me' but didn't look at him. He apparently was in a semi-physical state, but was possessed of no pulse. At least, none that he could detect. His reflection was a fright; he didn't need to shave, but his skin was the ashen-grey colour of a drained corpse. Wondering vaguely if this meant he was some sort of vampire, he wandered back to the door and looked around for Lisa and Cynthia.

He was just in time to see their bodies being shoved into the backseat of a car.

"Hey! Hey – stop!" he shouted, running after. The tall men in grey suits took no notice of him, however, and began to start up the car. He tried to open the back door, tripped, and fell through the metal into the backseat.

Blinking slightly, he sat up and tried to shake Lisa awake, but it was no use. She was out cold, and so was Cynthia. Stealing a glance upward, he noticed that he was not reflected in their rear-view mirror, nor did they seem to be bothered by his presence. With a sigh, he leaned back against the seat and looked out the window. They were moving too quickly for him to get anyone out safely, and besides – he couldn't seem to grasp the door handle.

"Really brilliant." he groused out loud, crossing his arms and tilting his head back. Not only were Lisa and Cynthia hostages, he couldn't do a damn thing about it. Not in this state. It annoyed him that one moment he seemed almost solid and then the next, barely in existence at all. How long was this going to stick?

The two men in the front weren't talking. In fact, the only thing Jackson could hear was Lisa's and Cynthia's breathing. It was an almost eerie silence, and he glanced out the window again. He swore when he realized they'd been going a lot faster, and they were almost completely out of Miami – or at least, a part he'd never seen before. He didn't recognise _anything _and it was making him edgy. He picked at a spot on the navy sweater he'd found in Joe Reisart's closet – he was totally unwilling to wear that nasty purple thing – and tried to figure out where they were going.

They didn't stop driving until it was dark outside. By this time Jackson had picked all the little balls of loose threads out of the sweater and was on the verge of going crazy. The girls were still dead asleep, and showing no signs that they were going to wake up.

They pulled into an underground garage and the two men carried Lisa and Cynthia down in an elevator several more floors. Jackson leaned against the wall of the elevator and shoved his hands in his pockets, half of him wishing he was physically real, and the other half praying that they still couldn't see him. He was alone, and he was unarmed. And he wouldn't be any help to the girls if he couldn't even throw a punch. So he waited.

The men deposited the two ladies in a small, almost totally dark room, locking the door and walking away. Jackson slipped through the door and waited until his eyes adjusted before checking on Lisa and Cynthia.

Lisa came round first, hands on the sides of her head, moaning softly in pain. "Unghhh…"

"Lisa? Lisa, can you hear me?"

"Jack? Where are we?"

"You and Cynthia were…taken hostage; I'm presuming…I'm not sure where we are. Apparently they can't see me, and I'm still in flux."

She sighed, and then felt around in the dark for Cynthia. The other girl was slowly coming to, and also had a monstrous headache.

"What did they knock us out with? A Volkswagen?" she murmured, rubbing her forehead.

"Not that I could see. Probably some kind of noxious chemical."

"Jackson?" she blinked. "Was that you?"

"Yes."

"Can you go out there and find out what they want?" Lisa asked, sitting up against the wall and taking deep breaths to try and clear her head of the pain and dizziness.

"I'll try." he said, standing and walking back through the door, wincing at the contrast of the bright lights.

It didn't do him much good, however, because one of the men had just hung up the phone and the other had just sat down and begun to shuffle a deck of cards. Both had stern, silent faces, and neither was saying anything.

"Well this looks like fun." Jackson sighed, watching them for awhile. He tried to posses one, but quickly discovered their minds were either blank or they were very good at concealing things. Finally he decided to just try something. He swiped his hand across the card-table and shoved the stacked deck flying across the room, sending cards everywhere.

One of the men whipped out a gun and fired in his direction; it grazed his shoulder as the other one quickly picked up the deck and brought it back.

"Shit." Jackson stumbled back, clasping his hand to his shoulder. Then the men stopped playing and looked at the floor; he looked down too.

His blood was dripping onto the floor, a dark-red-brown, thick, sticky puddle was forming below his shoulder.

"Ohhh, shit." he whispered, almost literally diving through the door into the small black room before they could shoot him again.

"Jackson? What happened?" Lisa murmured. Cynthia had gone back to sleep, still letting out little noises of discomfort every few minutes.

"They _shot_ me. They can _see my blood_." he whispered, still in shock.

She found his shoulder in the dark and touched it, frowning in alarm. "And no word?"

"I can't posses them, and they're not talking." he shook his head. "We're just going to have to wait…"

* * *

_To be continued…_


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain._

_

* * *

_

"I wish _now_ that I'd saved my jacket." Jackson sighed, his hand clamped over his shoulder as Lisa searched her purse in the dark for a tampon. "Could've used that as binding."

"This works just as well. It's made to absorb blood." Lisa chuckled dryly, finally finding the little package.

"Well aren't you little miss first-aid." he snorted, taking it and pressing it lengthwise into the small, oozing dent in his shoulder. "Let me guess; were you a Girl Scout?"

She laughed a little at that, leaning back against the walls. They were cool and dry, and the room was still as dark as ever, but at least now with her eyes adjusted she could see shapes. "Not telling. A girl's got to keep _some_ secrets."

Jackson raised an eyebrow at her, and then relaxed against the wall next to her. He prodded the still-sleeping Cynthia, a foot or so away, with his foot. "D'you think we should wake her up?"

"Let her sleep." Lisa said quietly, shrugging. "She doesn't need to be awake for this."

Jackson nodded a little. "Sorry I couldn't get any information out of them. They were like _robots_."

She tilted her head. "Well, maybe it's a sign that you're getting better."

"Getting better? Leese, I'm _dead_." he pointed out.

She sighed tiredly. "I don't know. I've never had this kind of conversation with a ghost before."

Jackson murmured his assent and glanced around the small room again. The ceiling was fairly low, if the level of light above the door was any indication. He'd paced the length before, it was big enough to lie down in any direction but you would feel at least one wall.

"So, are you hostages…?" he murmured, looking at Lisa. "Wish I knew."

She was quiet for a moment, and then shivered slightly. It was beginning to get a little bit colder. "Jackson?"

"Mmm?"

"Are you still bleeding?"

"Oh – " he checked. "No. It's stopped."

She wrapped the used tampon in its package and put it back. "Well, that's one bit of good news."

"Looks like normal blood, too." Jackson turned his head and tried to smell the wound. "Doesn't smell like any chemicals."

"They must be out of your system by now." she nodded. Then she shivered again. "It's getting cold in here."

"I noticed." Jackson raised his eyebrows, pulling Cynthia closer to their sides, sharing body heat. "We should probably get away from the walls."

Nodding, Lisa helped him lift the other girl gently and sat them in the middle of the room. It wasn't getting any colder, but it was still uncomfortable.

Jackson took off the sweater and wrapped it around Cynthia's upper body to keep the sleeping girl warm. Lisa gave him a strange look.

"But Jack, won't you be – "

He pulled her down into his lap, her back against his chest, sharing heat.

" – oh." she exclaimed, blushing a little and pressing back into his warmth. "How can you still be so warm?"

"Must have something to do with being dead. I wasn't affected by the cold in the airplane, remember? My body temperature is stable." he shrugged, resting an arm casually around her waist.

"Makes sense." she nodded, pulling Cynthia up and feeling her forehead. "She's a bit warmer now."

"And how do _you_ feel?"

"Jackson Rippner, what a loaded question." she smirked, chuckling slightly.

"Loaded question? _Me_? Perish the thought."

She leaned back a bit more, curling into his warmth. "You feel like a radiator."

"I'd make a pun about 'warm pipes' but you might take it the wrong way."

She felt her cheeks burn. "Stop that. As soon as it starts getting warm again I'm going to get up."

"Mm-hmm. I know you will." he said calmly, nodding slightly and leaning his head on her shoulder.

She shivered again, this time not from the cold but from his breath in her ear. She closed her eyes and sat perfectly still, just listening to his heartbeat.

_His heartbeat? _

Lisa nearly jumped. "Jackson! Your heart is beating again!"

"What?" he asked in shock. She turned in his lap and pressed two fingers to his neck. Sure enough – his heart was beating. "You've got a pulse!"

His eyes were wide with surprise, but as he checked himself, he realized she was right. "Maybe I am…coming back to life." he whispered, breathlessly, hardly daring to hope it was true.

Lisa felt as though a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. If Jackson could come back to life…he could help them more. She grinned slightly and fought the urge to hug him. She had to remember that this _was_ Jackson, who'd tried to kill her and her father.

Oddly enough she didn't have to – Jackson tightened his grip around her waist.

"Jack?" her brow clouded slightly, she tilted her head back to try and look at his face, but she couldn't get a good angle. Her neck was straining too far, so she looked forward again and paused when she realized he'd locked his arms almost protectively over her lower belly.

"Be quiet." he ordered curtly, staying still as a stone. "I can hear them in the other room."

"I can't…"

He fought the urge to clamp a hand over her mouth. Sometimes, women could really be irritating like that. "Shut up. I can hear them on the phone."

Lisa huffed slightly and looked down, keeping an eye on Cynthia's breathing while Jackson listened to the faint voices through the wall. He inched them closer, so that they leaned against the dividing wall, pressing his head as close as he could.

A few minutes later, Jackson tilted his head forward and let out a breath.

"Well?"

"Which news do you want to hear first?"

"Is there any good news?"

"They're not planning to kill either of you."

"Bad news is…?"

"Well, you _are_ hostages. They're not letting you _go_ any time soon."

"So we're safe for now." Lisa said quietly.

He shook his head lightly. "That's not all…"

"What? There's _more_?"

He gave her a dark look. "I heard them say my name. I don't know what that means, but I heard one of them say it."

Lisa blinked, and then pressed back, tucking herself into his body, both for warmth and a sense of protection, which was rolling off of him in waves. "Probably just going over my history…"

"I don't know. That is what's bothering me." Jackson said quietly.

She sighed lightly, tilting her head forward and closing her eyes, hoping she could sleep, even like this.

With her last conscious thought, she prayed they would be safe.

* * *

To be continued… 


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain._

_

* * *

_

Lisa woke to an uncomfortable hard feeling under her legs, and squirmed slightly, before realizing where she was.

With a slight gasp, she sat still again, closing her eyes. Her every muscle was on alert, but when there was no other movement, she realized Jackson was still asleep.

"You'd better not be dreaming about me, you lecherous bastard." she chuckled in a low voice, before checking on Cynthia.

The girl was still out cold, but her breathing was fine and her pulse was steady. Lisa sat back with a sigh, leaning against Jackson's chest, one hand going up to brush her hair out of her eyes.

But then again, if he _was _dreaming about her, wasn't that partially her fault? After all…she _had_ been squirming around in his lap the entire time. A little pang of guilt coursed through her heart, and she leaned back to say something, but then Jackson snorted something along the lines of "snorfleherwitz" and woke up with a jolt.

"Leese?"

"Yes?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "Uh…"

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "_Men_."

"I blame you for that." he said with a snark.

"You're the one that pulled me into your lap." she pointed out.

"Did you want to freeze?"

"I didn't want to be your fuck-toy."

"Lisa?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.

"That's what this is about, isn't it? That Y chromosome makes you think with your dick." she scowled. "Let me up."

He didn't budge an inch.

"Let me _go_." she snarled, fighting his grip.

Jackson made as if to let her go, then grabbed her back and pulled her down, hissing softly when she made contact with his lap.

"Jack, I'm _warning_ you…"

He silenced her with a kiss; she fought for another few moments, then sank down against him and gave in.

_He's a damn good kisser_.

Jackson was unzipping her slacks and she was undoing his belt; both of them with a single thought. Lisa pushed his pants down over his hips; he pulled hers down to her ankles and she kicked them off, kissing him deeply as she slid forward onto him and wrapped her legs around his waist.

It was a frantic, wild sort of thing, little gasps and grunting noises every so often, but mostly just the shuffle of bodies and the impossibility of getting any closer to one another.

When both had finished, Lisa sighed and shook her head where it rested on Jackson's shoulder.

"We can't keep doing this." she whispered, almost sadly.

"I know." he murmured, but made no move to let her go. He'd wound his arms tightly around her upper back and shoulders, pressing her close as if she were the source of life itself. She herself had wound her arms around his neck, one hand up into his shaggy auburn hair, the other clasped on his opposite shoulder.

"This can't ever possibly work."

"I know." he said again, dully.

"This _can't_ happen again." she protested weakly.

"I know." was all he said, stroking her back gently as he slowly let his arms go slack. He let them rest on her hips, and she leaned back a little, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Jack…" she gave him a look.

He shook his head. "I _know_, Leese."

She still hadn't moved away; her legs were still locked around his hips and he was still buried in her.

Lisa felt her eyes burn and tilted her head forward, resting her forehead just below his chin; he wrapped his arms around her shoulders again.

"God…what are we doing?" she whispered against his chest. "I don't even know who or what you are any more."

"Neither do I. You're certainly not the same, either." he murmured, stroking her hair softly. "Lisa Reisart wouldn't have driven all night long to burn and bury a body in a junkyard."

"Jackson Rippner wouldn't have bled for me." Lisa smiled a little, sniffing slightly and trying very hard not to cry. A barrage of confusing and overwhelming emotions were hitting her all at once, making it very difficult to think.

"Don't think, then." he whispered. She stiffened, and then relaxed when she remembered he could still read her thoughts. "Just feel."

He began to move his hips again; she could feel him getting hard inside of her again.

_Impressive stamina_.

Jackson chuckled lightly, hands massaging her back and shoulders as she rested against him gently. "I'm a little out-of-practice."

_Not that I could tell_. There was something inside that prevented her from saying it out loud, as if to say it in her head was cheating. It wouldn't make this situation real. Because it couldn't be real. Both of them had agreed they wouldn't do this again, that this couldn't…couldn't ever happen again.

So it couldn't be real. Nothing was. Not the pleasure that was beginning to build again, not his lips on her throat, not the little moaning, gasping sounds she was making, none of it. Not the feeling of his teeth and tongue over her scar, not their rocking which was beginning to speed up, certainly not their hungry kiss…kisses.

Jack felt like a boy again, when he'd found his mother's tampons. Thinking long and hard about where she put them. Up into her body, her dripping heat, her chasm, her centre…he saw himself in his mind's eye, his child's form, holding the box in one hand, the other going down into his jeans, wondering what it would be like to bury his own hot, aching length in that depth.

He came with a shudder and found his sweat cold. Lisa was still shivering against him; he wrapped his arms tighter and pulled her as close as they could possibly get, tucking her head under his chin.

"Shh. It's okay." he murmured, in contrast to her gasping gulps, rubbing her back. "Lisa."

She shivered again and huddled against him. "I'm cold again."

Jackson wrapped them in his sweater, keeping Cynthia close by for heat.

"I'll keep you warm." he said quietly.

* * *

To be continued… 


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain._

_

* * *

_

Jackson slowly came awake in the still darkness, and gently eased Lisa off of him. He dressed himself rather awkwardly in the dark, then stood up and walked to the door.

It took a few moments for him to adjust to the light, and then he made his way further into the room. It was empty, but there was an open doorway and a flight of stairs that he hadn't noticed before. Curious, he went up, hand on the banister and ears open.

When he reached the top he realized he was above-ground again. It appeared to be a kitchen; a window was open and cheerful blue-spotted curtains framed the white sill. It looked out onto a backyard garden with a garage and a large tree near the driveway.

Jackson arched an eyebrow in puzzlement; he circled the island in the middle of the kitchen and began to explore the house.

It was a colorful little place, and the front was open and inviting. It could've been anyone's place, and the street was quiet and nondescript. Off a little ways to the right he could see a small park with a swing set and jungle-gym, and to his left another row of houses.

Very confused, he went back inside and trooped up the stairs to the second floor. There was a large master bedroom, a bathroom, an exercise room, and a smaller room which had a computer and several bookshelves.

"Like a library." he said aloud, eyebrows raised so high they vanished under his hairline as he ran his fingertips along the tops of the books. They were covered in dust, and he coughed so hard tears ran down his cheeks as he stumbled out.

He made his way back down to the main floor, looking around. Aside from him and the girls downstairs, the house was apparently empty.

However, there was a single note on the island table in the kitchen.

Sitting down on a high stool, he began to read it. It was a ransom note, or at least, a script or first draft of one, outlining the terms and conditions.

It read rather like a contract, some sort of binding legal document, and the printing was quite small. Jackson squinted slightly to read all of it, and when he got to the bottom, a cold sensation settled in his lower belly.

"Oh God no. **_No_**…"

* * *

Lisa woke up alone in the dark again, near-fully clothed; her shoes were gone. Fumbling around a little, she found them and sat back against the wall.

"Lisa?"

"Oh, Cynthia! It's good to hear you're awake." Lisa sighed with relief as Cynthia came into view. The other girl blinked a little as her eyes re-adjusted to the darkness of the room. "Where are we?"

"Kidnapped. Jackson should be around here somewhere." Lisa stood up and began to feel her way around the room. But other than Cynthia and herself, it was empty. Alarmed, she paused at the door where a sliver of pale yellow light slipped under the bottom.

Getting down on her stomach, she peered underneath.

The light burned her eyes at first, but after a few watery blinks she began to see shapes and colors. A table, a couple of chairs, a small room but no people.

Quite suddenly, Jackson stepped through the door and onto her hand.

"Ahhhh!" Lisa yelped and pulled her hand back against her body, curling up against the wall and breathing in through her teeth.

"Sorry!" Jackson winced and knelt down, making a slight face. "I have good news and bad news."

"Good news first." Cynthia said, bending down to examine Lisa's hand.

"Good news is, you two have a ransom."

Lisa gave him a dry look, still gritting her teeth in order to avoid screaming from the throbbing pain. "Great. Bad news?"

Jackson let out a sigh through his teeth. "The bad news is, the ransom isn't money. It's a _life_."

"Whose life?" Cynthia asked in a hushed voice.

"I don't know how they could've known…"

"_Whose life_?" Lisa demanded, grabbing Jackson's wrist with her good hand.

"I don't understand…"

"**_Whose life_**?" both girls demanded together.

Jackson gave them a rather wild, frightened look. "_Mine_."

* * *

To be continued…

* * *

I apologize for the shortness of this chapter, but forgive me, I wrote it at one a.m. The next one will be double length to make up. Cheers. 


	11. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain._

_

* * *

_

Cynthia and Lisa stared at Jackson with matching blank looks on their faces.

"Um…hate to break the news, but…you're dead." Lisa pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't you see? That's the point!" Jackson hissed, frustrated. "Either they don't know I'm dead, and they'll never _get_ their ransom, or they know I'm dead and there's something _we_ don't know." He let out a little huffing noise of aggravation and leaned against the wall again. "Either way it means we're in trouble. By the way – have they fed you?"

Cynthia shook her head. "I haven't eaten anything since um…the morning. How long have we been in here?"

Jackson blinked. "It's still daylight outside, but I don't know how long we've been down here." he walked towards the door again. "I saw a calendar in the kitchen, but – "

He walked right into the door, but he didn't go through it. "Oomph!"

Lisa jumped at the loud noise. "Jack? What's wrong?"

"What's wrong is I can't go through the – " he let out a long, hissing chain of swear words as he kicked the door and hobbled backwards. "Ahh!"

"Is he alive again?" Cynthia asked, moving forward and peering at him through the gloom.

"Might be…" Jackson murmured, checking his wrists and then his neck for a pulse. "I'm breathing, I've got a pulse, and I can't walk through the door…I probably _am_." he blinked, leaning against the wall and sliding down to sit on the ground.

"Woah." Cynthia remarked, sitting down with Lisa, opposite Jackson. "I didn't know that could happen…"

"Well he didn't exactly die in the most usual of ways." Lisa pointed out dryly, trying hard not to laugh as Jackson kept pinching himself in different places to see if he was awake. "Maybe he wasn't really dead."

Cynthia gave her a bizarre look, and was about to say something, when the door opened and they were flooded with a blaze of bright, yellow light.

"Well, it's about fucking time." said a voice, and then Jackson felt his arm grabbed; he was being dragged out of the room.

"Let go of me! _Let go of me_!" he snarled, kicking and punching, but he couldn't see through the bright light.

Lisa and Cynthia were dragged out too, protesting roughly, but were shoved into chairs round the small table.

A gray-suited man with several holstered guns stood by the open doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall. Another man, clad also in a gray suit, stood by them at the table.

"Looks like you found our note, Rippner." he said in a sarcastic voice. "The process is complete."

"What process? What's going on here!" Jackson demanded, tight sneer on his face.

"Re-animation." the other man smirked. "The chemical process worked perfectly. You're the first fully successful test subject in a line of experiments designed to create the perfect assassins."

"Not quite perfect. My body was nearly in a state of decay." Jackson snarled. "I was coughing up pieces of my lungs!"

"Yes, well, a few kinks in the chemical cocktails." the man shrugged, grinning slightly. "But the mix is now complete; you're back to living human form. In the peak of health, I might add." he said proudly.

Jackson gritted his teeth and fought the urge to spit. It probably wouldn't help their situation, but he had the horrible feeling he'd been used. He _had_ been used; his body was a chemical experimentation field. "Someone could've told me."

"Ah, but would you have volunteered? No. And besides, you were going to 'die' anyway. We persuaded your benefactors to allow us to pump your body full of the rest of the necessary chemicals, and then we set you free again."

Lisa watched Jackson's cold fury building and felt a little bit of it too. At the same time she could feel terror gnawing in her gut. That invisible, ghost-like assassin was the future? Someone who could go anywhere, do anything, get so close and then kill? She shivered slightly, involuntarily. Glancing over at Cynthia, she noticed the other woman pale and wavering a little. Reaching out, she took her friend's hand under the table and squeezed it to try and help steady her.

"So now that you know your precious little formula works, you'll do away with me?" Jackson guessed, raising an eyebrow.

"We've no real reason to keep you around." the man shrugged. "The two girls as well. However, you're a threat to us if you tell. So you see our dilemma."

"We won't say anything." Cynthia blurted out. The man just looked at her dully.

"If we say we'll keep our mouths shut, we'll keep our mouths shut." Jackson stated, with an air of calmness he did not feel. "Cynthia barely knows anything at all, and Lisa – in my experience – is very, very good at keeping secrets."

"Interesting, but what about you?" the man asked with a smirk.

"What about me? I'll go back to my job." Jackson shrugged. "Get a new ID, passport, and birth certificate, whatever I need to become 'alive' again."

"You're no use. You failed in your last mission."

Jackson shot a glare at Lisa; she shot him one full of equal fire. "That _wasn't_ my fault."

"It was _hers_, wasn't it?" the man chuckled. "Fine, then. You can go. But why don't you take a little revenge first?"

Jackson stood up. Half of him was thrumming with rage, and the man was practically giving him permission to take it all out on Lisa.

Lisa met his stare, inch for inch. Silently she told him she wasn't backing down from this, even though she knew that he couldn't hear her any more.

Cynthia trembled slightly at first, then squeezed Lisa's hand and moved closer, backing her up from behind and to her left.

Jackson was hardly intimidated by this, yet as he took the proffered gun from the gray-suited man, he could almost hear them in his head. He blinked, and Lisa narrowed her eyes, concentrating on sending him a message with whatever telepathy they had left.

_Divided we fall, Jackson. The moment you shoot one of us they'll take us all down._

He cocked the gun, then whipped his arm out to the side and pulled the trigger. The bullet took the guard by the stairs in the throat, nearly taking his head off.

The other man, to his right, jumped and tried to get his own gun out; he wasn't fast enough and Jackson had the barrel of the gun rammed down his throat.

"Get out!" he yelled at the girls, and they ran up the stairs; Lisa took one of the man's guns with her as they went. He could hear a car starting; he pulled the trigger then blocked the mess with his back as he took the steps two at a time.

"Get in!" Lisa hissed, and Jackson leapt into the passenger seat, closing the door as they took off down the road.

* * *

To be continued… 


	12. Chapter 12

**_For Justice! _**

* * *

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain.

* * *

_  
They'd been driving for nearly half an hour when Jackson finally turned to Lisa and said, "I think we're lost." 

It was true. He had no idea where they'd been taken, and hadn't really paid all that much attention to where they were going when they'd been kidnapped.

"We should probably stop and ask for directions." Cynthia nodded, still wide-eyed from the encounter. Jackson cast a glimpse at her and winced; the young woman looked so frail and fragile, pale like a wisp of wind that might blow away if you breathed too hard. Their little trio felt awkward together.

Lisa sighed slightly, looking around. It was getting dark outside again; the sun was setting. Not wanting to disturb someone's house, she drove until she found an intersection and parked in front of a supermarket.

They all trooped out of the car and went inside, Jackson feeling a bit nervous.

"Excuse me, but we took a wrong turn awhile ago. Could you tell us where we are, please?" Lisa asked one of the workers.

"Fort Lauderdale…" the young man shrugged, and then went back to stacking boxes in the cereal aisle.

Jackson and Lisa exchanged looks, and then Cynthia gasped and tugged at their sleeves.

"The car!"

They hurried outside, but it was too late – their car was already gone, turning off down a side-street.

"Of all the fucking inconvenient times – " Jackson growled, hands balling into fists. "We were so _close_!"

"Not that close." Cynthia pointed out, as they walked along the street trying to find a hotel. "We're still a fair ways away from our homes."

"That's not what I meant…" Jackson ran a hand down his face. "Ahh, forget it."

They found a fairly cheap room at a motel, the last one – again. Thankfully this one had two beds. Cynthia sighed and sat down on one of the beds, tucking her legs up and turning on the TV. Browsing, she found a news station and began to watch.

Lisa put her jacket on one of the beds, and took the gun from the inside pocket, hoping she wouldn't have to use it. One more sarcastic remark from Jackson about the fact that she was a woman, and she might be sorely tempted…

She headed for the bathroom, and after realizing that there was no lock, poked her head out again.

"I'm going to take a shower. _No one_ is to come in here." she narrowed her eyes at Jackson, purposefully.  
"Me? Peep? Perish the thought." Jackson sat down on the other bed and was glued to the news in under a minute.

Rolling her eyes and chuckling lightly to herself, Lisa closed the door and turned on the hot water.

* * *

The news, on the whole, was rather boring, and Cynthia ended up flipping from channel to channel, lying on her stomach with her legs in the air. She finally stumbled upon a made-for-TV-movie that had more than two stars, so she decided to stick with it. 

Jackson played with the little cigarette-burn hole in the coverlet for a while, not really watching. It had turned out to be a chick-flick, and rather than encourage his body to produce more estrogen, he got up and knocked on the bathroom door. "Lisa? Are you decent?"

"I'm decent, are you?" came the rather sarcastic reply.

He opened the door, finding Lisa trying to deal with the mess that used to be her hair.

"No shampoo. God. It's a fright." she muttered under her breath, trying to comb the knots out of it with her fingers.

"Here." Jackson did something with his open palms, and suddenly Lisa's hair fell straight again. She turned to him with eyes as wide as saucers.

"How did you _do_ that?"

"A magician never reveals his secrets." Jackson said, in a mock-serious tone, trying hard not to grin with triumph.

Muttering to herself again, Lisa washed her hands. "Well, 'magic man', care to do a whammy on the bathroom-door lock?"

"Why? Don't you trust us?"

"I still don't trust _you_." she said pointedly.

"Even after all this time?"

"_Especially_ after all this time." Lisa said wryly, drying off her hands with one of the towels.

"Hey, I could've killed you back there. I didn't." Jackson pointed out. "Don't I get a little credit for that?"

"Let it not be forgotten that your original plan involved me and the killing of an innocent man's family." she said coldly, turning to the mirror and fussing with one persistent strand of hair. "Dammit! Stay down!"

"Mmm?"

"Not you. My hair."

Jackson tucked it down. "Voilà."

"Stop doing things to my hair." she complained, shooting him a not-quite-serious glare.

He smiled demurely, and then gave her a little peck on the nose. "You're cute when you're angry."

"Why – you – augh." she leaned in closer. "If you weren't – "

Then they were kissing. Neither of them knew which one had initiated, but neither of them wanted to stop; their arms had minds of their own, wrapping round one another and –

"Okay, I'm just gonna turn around and pretend I didn't see that." Cynthia said, blinking, pulling a 180 and walking stiffly away.

Lisa blushed, "Ah – I'm sorry, Jack – I can't – I can't do this – we said we couldn't – " She pushed Jackson away and hurried after Cynthia, mind whirling with explanations, each just as pitiful as the one before it.

Jackson growled as the door swung shut behind her. He looked down at his groin and threw his arms up in the air in frustration.

"Dammit!" he said. "Stay down!"

* * *

To be continued…

* * *

Authoress' note: Lordy! I can't believe it took me this long to get this chapter written. It hovered at about half-done for two weeks! Remind me to never get this lazy again. Oh, and I owe you people more gratuitous fan-service.  



	13. Chapter 13

_For Great Justice!_

_

* * *

_

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain._

_

* * *

_

"All right, Jack – you're sleeping in that one." Lisa pointed to the bed nearest the wall which separated the bathroom from the main room.

"All by myself?" he said demurely, unbuttoning his shirt. Lisa turned away quickly, flicking off the lights. It was a difficult thing but she managed not to turn around.

In the darkness of the room, there was only sound and heat; Cynthia was already half-asleep by the time Lisa climbed in beside her friend. Turning over to peer at Jackson, she realized he was watching them.

Pulling the gun out of the drawer she'd put it in, she pointed it at him.

"Don't even think about it, Jack. This thing is still loaded"

He merely raised an eyebrow. "Just thinking about how you two – "

"Oh, knock it off!" she cocked the gun; it clicked loudly in the stillness of the room. "It's because neither of us wants to sleep with _you._ Ever consider that?"

"Not going to call me an egomaniacal, chauvinist pig?" he chuckled, turning over to face away from her.

It was a long time before Lisa felt calm enough to put the gun down again.

* * *

In the morning Cynthia woke up, rolling over to find a gap in the bed beside her. Blinking, she rose up and froze when she spotted Lisa and Jackson tangled in the sheets of the other bed.

Eyes big, she tip-toed over to the bathroom and turned on the shower, hoping it wouldn't wake them up.

Unfortunately for her, it did.

Lisa woke up first, and the room's silence exploded into a blood-curdling shriek.

"God _dammit_, Jackson Rippner! _What_ did I tell you!"

He jolted awake only to stare down the barrel of the gun, which was pointed right between his eyes less than an inch away from his face.

"I didn't do anything!" he yelped, skittering backwards and pressing himself up against the wall. Or at least, he tried. He was far too tangled up to really go far, and it dragged Lisa down on top of him.

The gun flew out of Lisa's hands as she was jerked forwards, and it landed half-way across the room. She landed half-way across his chest, face buried in his neck. Several moments of awkward mashing went by before Lisa finally separated herself from the mess of sheets.

"I'm taking a shower. Ugh. I feel so dirty." she shuddered, speaking her thoughts aloud as she stormed into the bathroom.

Cynthia shared a rather edgy look with Jackson.  
He held up his hands in innocence. "I swear, I didn't – "

"She sleepwalks." Cynthia whispered conspiritally as she gazed out the window. "Our car is back…"

Jackson jumped out of bed, hurrying over. "It…hang on." he put his shirt back on, taking the gun and slowly examining every inch of the inside of the car. It was mercifully devoid of invisible assassins. "All clear."

Lisa came out and watched him. She was still irritated and angry, but was calm enough to look Jackson in the face as they all climbed in and she took the wheel. "We'll be back by mid afternoon probably."

"That's good." Cynthia nodded from the back, nervously trailing her fingers over the gun which Lisa had tossed to her from the driver's seat. "They'll be wondering what kept us. I called last night, but…"

Jackson stared out the window as they pulled out of the parking area and drove back onto the highway. "Still. I don't like this whole thing. I didn't find anything wrong with the car, but…"

"I know what you mean." Lisa sighed, adjusting the rearview mirror. "I feel like we're being watched."

"Not just watched…followed." Cynthia said nervously, pointing out a small blue-gray car that had been trailing them for several blocks now.

"What?" Lisa jerked, but Jackson grabbed the wheel to keep them steady.

"Just keep going." he urged in a low voice. "If they suspect we know what they're up to, they might not be content to just _follow_ us any more…"

Taking in a deep breath to steady herself, Lisa narrowed her eyes and upped her speed just slightly on the highway. The car behind them kept pace, not getting any closer, nor lagging behind.

"I…I can't see anyone driving." Cynthia said in an alarmed whisper. "I – I think – "

Suddenly the car sped up – Lisa jerked and reacted, and the whiplash nearly knocked Jackson out of his seat.

"Jesus _Christ_! Be careful!" he hissed, holding onto the armrests as they weaved through the other cars on the highway to try and avoid being caught up to.

"I don't have time." Lisa snarled, risking a sharp look at him before turning off the highway onto the roads just beyond.

They were followed; she took back roads she knew would be difficult, and Cynthia felt her stomach rebel.

"I'm gonna be sick…" she gritted.

"Just hang on." Lisa hissed, doing a sharp turn – the car behind them didn't have time to catch it. It rammed right through the guard rail and rocketed nearly forty feet into a ditch and crashed hard, nearly exploding into flames.

Lisa kept driving; she could feel the heat behind them, but didn't turn until they'd reached residential roads she knew.

"God…" Cynthia sighed from the back seat. "Don't – don't do that again…"

Jackson didn't say a word. He sat in the passenger seat, hands gripping the armrests so tightly his knuckles were white.

"Jack?" Lisa said quietly, her heart still pounding and adrenalin still coursing through her body. She felt like she'd been tapped into a live wire, wondering just how much shock her body could take before it gave up on her.

"Nothing." he murmured softly, looking ahead, his vague gaze lost in the middle distance. "It's nothing."

* * *

To be continued… 


	14. Chapter 14

_For Great Justice!_

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain._

_

* * *

_

It was late afternoon by the time they arrived at the hotel; the sun was reflecting off the planes of glass like fire, making Cynthia squint as she got out of the car and went inside to do some explaining. She sighed as everyone paused silently to take in her disheveled state.

"I'm fine…" she said aloud, going over to the main desk and typing in a few commands before logging out and picking up her bag. "This is my holiday; I'm going to need it…"

Jackson and Lisa continued to drive until they reached her father's house. With a sigh, she turned off the engine and staggered out of the car, bone-weary. Jackson offered support but she just pushed his arm away and walked on her own. Feeling a bit put-off, Jackson shoved his hands in his pockets and followed her to the front door.

Upon opening it and walking inside, however, he was greeted by a snarling, angry father, and the barrel of a gun pointed right between his eyes.

_Oh no, not again…_he moaned to himself, inwardly.

"Dad! No!" Lisa protested, tugging her father's arm down. "He's saved my life a few times…"

"Get out of my house." he snarled. "Go on. Get out before I lose my patience."

Jackson was out of the house and _gone._ Lisa didn't even have time to make an excuse for him to stay before he was up the street and out of sight.

"Why did you do that?" she demanded, surprised at her own anger and frustration; she chalked it up to being kidnapped. "He was only trying to help!"

Flustered, Joe couldn't respond before Lisa had stridden off to her upstairs bedroom.

* * *

It was a few days before Lisa could stand to go into work again. When she did, Cynthia was already back, and caught up between a few clients.

"No, I'm sorry, sir, but that room has already been booked…may I suggest 3045?"

The man rolled his eyes but paid, and she handed him the keys before going on break. Lisa took the opportunity to catch up.

"You're awfully quiet." Cynthia said as she made herself some coffee. "How have things with Jackson been going?"

"My father chased him off at gunpoint." Lisa lowered her eyes. "I haven't seen him in days."

"You miss him." Cynthia said without thinking.

Lisa's head snapped up. "I do _not _miss that arrogant, pig-headed, chauvinistic bastard!"

Cynthia giggled, albeit nervously. "You _do_ miss him. I didn't say you loved him. Just that you missed him."

Lisa winced, and then sighed when she realized that her friend was right. Jackson had been a large, welcome presence in their lives for the past few days, and now it felt like something was missing.

"If I ever decide to love that creep, shoot me where I stand." she said grudgingly, patting the small handgun she'd taken to carrying around on a strap under her skirt. "I'm serious."

Cynthia's eyes widened. "Ah…well…"

There was a moment of awkward silence. It was interrupted by the high-pitched ring of a cell phone.

Sighing and rolling her eyes, Lisa looked at it. Caller display hadn't come on, there was no number.

Raising an eyebrow, she flipped it open and answered. "Hello?"

There was silence.

"Hello?" she asked again.

Nothing, but she could hear breathing on the other end of the line. "Listen – if this is a prank call, I'll – "

"You will do nothing, Miss Reisart," the voice was cold, calculated, "except for listening very, very closely to what I have to say."

She narrowed her eyes. "Who is this? What do you want?"

"It is not important that you know who I am, but it is important that I know who _you_ are. You are an important hotel manager. You are one of Jackson Rippner's failed missions. And you are the reason he is about to die."

The bottom dropped out of Lisa's stomach as a cold wave of fear swept over her. "So – "

"There is a car outside. Take it. Rippner will not be the only one to die, but he will be the first." there was a click, and then an empty dial tone.

Lisa dropped the phone as if it were a live snake. "Jesus."

Cynthia stooped to pick it up. "What's wrong? What's going on?"

Lisa stood up, taking the phone back. "Death threat, not just to Jackson." she whispered, then grabbed her friend's arm and tugged her towards the back. There was a car waiting, dark, with two gray-clad men waiting by it.

"Not again…" Cynthia moaned. "This just screams _trap_!

"I know." Lisa murmured, sliding her fingertips over her skirt and making sure the gun wasn't visible. "But at least we know this time."

"We're not going!" Cynthia tried to protest, but as her friend walked purposely across the parking lot, she knew she couldn't go back. "You're going to get us all killed!"

"I know." was all Lisa said.

* * *

_To be concluded_… 


	15. Chapter 15

Hi there, everyone. Remember me? Yeah. Ha. I finally finished the story.

I hope it was worth waiting for.

* * *

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain._

* * *

The building was whitewashed on the outside, in a part of town Lisa knew wasn't very well-off. She watched the windows, but nothing moved inside. 

"Get out."

Cynthia and she obeyed silently. Checking her step to be sure the gun didn't show, Lisa opened the door and they walked inside. Their footsteps echoed on the floor in the large, empty room.

"Up the stairs."

"What stairs?" Cynthia inquired.

"Those stairs."

Lisa pulled her friend in the direction of the back wall. There was a small flight of stairs hidden behind a propped-up board and they found themselves in a basement not unlike the one they'd been held in for those few days.

In the corner, Jackson was standing tied up, a very nasty-looking cut on the side of his face; a gun was pointed on the other side of his head.

"There you are."

Lisa glanced at Cynthia, and then at the man in gray who'd spoken. "Here we are. And now…?"

"Now we have our little chat. Sit."

They sat. The low table was soon occupied by several of the men in gray suits. They looked alarmingly similar. Not identical, but they had the same hair, same color eyes and of course, their clothing. "We are the society which has hired Rippner again and again. He has failed because of you. Why?"

"…You brought us here to ask why you hired a lousy hit-man?" Lisa blinked, trying to form some kind of plan in her mind.

"_Hey_!"

"_You_ will be quiet." he glared at Jackson. "Reisart. His talents are not in question. He has proved himself to be of the best caliber. It is you who are under suspicion."

"You think I'm some sort of spy?"

"You run a hotel." those steely eyes blinked unemotionally. "You are unimportant."

_Oh really_. "Did you drag me all the way out here to flatter me or dismiss me?"

"To hire you."

She almost laughed, but caught herself in time. "What? Right, sure. No! What are you talking about?!"

"We wish you to join our society and work for us."

Lisa exchanged an incredulous look at Cynthia. Her friend blinked.

"Or you'll kill us?"

"You're smarter than you look."

With a small grunt of annoyance, Lisa cast a glance at Rippner. He kept gesturing to one of the men with his eyes. More specifically at his gun.

"I have to be, I work in P.R." Lisa raised an eyebrow, letting her hand rest on the edge of the table, as if to push herself up and away. "Fine. I'm in. But one thing first."

"Ask away."

"I want to be able to shoot him myself." Lisa stood up and pointed at Rippner, who made a small scared noise in the back of his throat. "Bastard's caused me a lot of trouble."

"He is still worth something to us."

"Him or me."

One of the men handed her his gun.

"Do it then. A sign of good faith."

Lisa hefted it, and then sighed. "I can't do it. I think after all this time I've developed some kind of Stockholm syndrome."

"Your friend, perhaps?"

_Bingo. Come on, Cynthia_. "Take the shot." _Please, please, please, take the gun…_

Cynthia's eyes were wide as saucers but she took it. She had to hold it with both hands to aim. Lisa took a breath, then a step back, hands folding behind her back. Her fingers touched cold steel and she let her mind go blank as she pulled it out and pulled the trigger.

The room exploded in gunfire.

* * *

White ceiling, IV stands, and beeping machines. 

"Not again!"

"At least you're not waking up dead." Cynthia said, looking down at Lisa with a small smile. She cradled her arm, which was in a cast. "They told me they took about a dozen bullets out of you!"

"I can feel it." her body was stingy and achy. "Where's Jackson?"

"He got bandaged up and left. Just…walked away." Cynthia looked up and away. "You should get some rest."

She rolled over. "Fine." _He left without saying anything! I swear to God, Jackson…I WILL find you! And you will suffer! _She grunted and rolled her eyes. _Men_.

And then she noticed it. There was a note tacked to the mattress beside her pillow, with two small lines on it. She smiled.

_We'll talk again. _

_Some day._

* * *

End.


End file.
